Killing Is Your Latest Fashion
by TheDoctorSherlock
Summary: Just a little thing I whipped up. Inspired by Sherlock. Rated M for a reason but not too graphic.


**Author's Note: So, I have been told I should be a novelist. I wrote this up as an experiment to see if I should. It isn't technically Sherlock, but it was inspired by it. So let me know what you think? I want honest feed back. Don't be afraid to flame it if it's bad. I need to know what people honestly think. As a warning, I have a very intriguing mind fueled by fanfiction and absolutely no shame. :)**

**Thank you 3**

The darkness was as overwhelming as the unbearably sweet, metallic taste in my mouth was puzzling. _What the hell is going on?_ I thought around the pounding in my head. The concrete from the cold hard floor I was laying on pressed into my skull painfully. Wearily, I opened my eyes, only to screw them shut again. The dull throbbing in my head was spurned on to a migraine by the dim light. I bit back a groan of agony and tried to get a hold of myself.

Taking a deep breath, I tried figure out where I was without using my eyes, which had only told me in the half second that they had been open was that the only source of light was flickering above me. The air was cold and felt slightly damp. The floor mimicked it. There was a pungent decaying smell mixed with mold surrounding me. It smelled like death. I could detect a dripping sound that was much too loud and seemed to reverberate through the room.

_Small room, walls and ceiling probably made out of concrete, no windows. Leaking pipe. Underground. Conclusion, I am in a cellar._

Suddenly, I heard the sound of a door scrapping across the floor and light foot steps coming toward me. _I've got a visitor._

"I see you are awake, Tazmin," a soft voice said, the owner stopping a foot away from me.

My heart stopped. I hadn't heard that voice in fourteen years and I never thought I'd have to hear it again. Finding my own voice, I gritted out, "Zane."

"Oh, you still remember me? I feel so touched." My adopted brother's voice turned sickly sweet.

"How could I forget?" I whispered.

I tried again to open my eyes. Succeeding, I blinked slowly against the light and looked up at Zane. My parents had adopted him when he was three and I was born two years later. In the time since I had run away, he had changed a lot. The sweet protective brother I once knew was gone, but that wasn't much of a surprise. I probably never even knew the real him.

His chestnut hair fell over his face in uneven layers, covering the eyes I knew were amber as though he was hiding from me, or possibly himself. Even from this angle I knew he was several inches taller than me and he was very thin. A well tailored suit hung off his slight frame.

_Well off. Probably a career in medicine or law. Hair shaggy, covering eyes meant to look mysterious. Suit says power, intimidating. Took care to dress like this to frighten me. _I dimly observed as my gaze was drawn to his mouth, the polite smile sending chills down my spine. _Goal successful._

"You did run away with your little friend… I would think you wanted to forget me." Zane pretended to pout.

"I did, Zane. After what you did, would you expect any less?" My voice held the smallest hint of cracking, even as I tried to keep it flat.

Images flooded through my mind of _that _night. The night that was, simultaneously, the best and worst night of my life. Some of my wavy ebony hair fell in my eyes as I shook my head trying to clear it. I moved to brush it back, only to realize then that my hands were tied behind my back. _Probably have been like that for hours judging by the fact that they were completely numb. _I awkwardly sat up from where I was lying and leaned against the wall, ignoring the aching that the action brought.

"After what _I_ did? You pushed me to it, my dear Tazmin. Always running off and abandoning me to play with your friend. You never even told me his name."

His expression turned mocking, daring me to correct him. I didn't rise to his challenge, opting instead to bite my lip. Zane smirked at my silent refusal and knelt in front of me. He leaned forward until his lips brushed my ear and purred, "I want to know who he is."

My mind flashed back to a tall, lean man with messy blood red hair and stunning aquamarine eyes. My heart panged with guilt as I finally remembered what had happened last night, but I quickly squashed down the memory. I had bigger things to worry about right now. I hung my head and bit my lip harder, drawing blood. I didn't want my brother to see the depth of the fear I was feeling in my eyes.

"Don't be like that. You know if you tell me, I will let you go," his breath tickled my ear, causing an involuntary shudder of repulsion. "I will find him, with or without your help."

Zane pulled back, brushing his hair off his face and grabbing my chin as he tilted it up in an effort to get me to look at him. It worked, our eyes met and I could see my own terrified violet eyes reflected back at me in his pupils. Sickly, I noted his eyes were dilated and his breathing was shallow and uneven. I turned my attention to his throat, seeing the faint, rapid beating of his pulse beneath the thin layer of skin. My eyes darted up to his face again, knowing what I would find. As I suspected, his eyebrows were furrowed together, but as I looked back into his eyes, they rose amused and his lips formed a sardonic smile. _He is enjoying this.. He's actually getting off on it_, I swallowed back the bile that rose in my throat. As if reading my thoughts, he slowly nodded and licked his lips, his meaning perfectly clear: _I can do whatever I want to you and I won't lose any sleep over it._

"I won't help you, Zane. Do what you want to me." I forced icy determination into my tone.

"Do you really want me to test that?" Zane's smile grew wider.

My only answer was to glare at him. I knew, without a doubt, that I had just signed my own death sentence. Zane had never been one to do anything by halves. Despite this, my resolve didn't waver. If I gave in, my best friend would die and I refused to let that happen.

"One last chance, sweetie. If I have to ask you again, I might not be so nice," he taunted, stroking my hair.

Defiant, I grimly answered, "Do your worst."

"I intend to," he breathed.

Before I was fully aware of what was happening, Zane's mouth was on mine. He kissed me with an unjust vengeance, bruising my cold unresponsive lips. After a moment, I snapped out of my shock and began to struggle against him, only to earn his hand fisting in my hair and pulling it. I gasped in pain and he took advantage of it, sliding his tongue into my mouth. Without stopping to think, I bit down hard and tasted his blood flowing into my mouth, mingling with my own. He yelped and pulled away, his hand covering his mouth. I turned my head to the side and spit out the red fluid, feeling a bit better at the look of outrage on his face.

Abruptly, the anger vanished and was replaced by a look of glee. "This is going to be more fun than I thought."

My heart sank. Fighting back only served to make him more excited, but letting him continue like this was agony.

As his lips attacked mine again, I felt myself shut down. My body went limp and I retreated into my mind, wandering through the corridors and rooms.

Several years ago, I was reading random articles and one taught of a memory technique that enabled the person using it to remember everything. The process involved creating a place in one's mind and storing the memories there, then all that needed to be done was to find the way back to them.

My mind had an unlimited number of rooms that grew and shrunk. Growing with the amount of memories and information that I needed or made me happy and shrinking if I found them to be useless and erasing them. Information was stored like computer files that I could draw up by thinking of something and then my brain would do and automatic search and give me all the information it had on the subject. Memories, however, were stored as paintings that came to life and engulfed me whenever I focused on one.

There were very few rooms that never lost any memories and I went to the largest one now. I took my time getting there, walking up stairs and down endless hallways. I could have just pictured the place and warped there, but I was scared of the pain and guilt I would experience once I reached my destination. Finally, I reached the room. I hesitated shortly, before steeling myself and opening the door.

The air rushed out of my lungs and tears pricked my eyes as I walked in and over to the first painting. In it, I was the new girl in her fifth year of school and it was my first day of class. I had just walked in and was staring into aquamarine eyes, seeing the boy that would become my best friend and the person I would die to protect for the first time.

"Benny," I whispered brokenly and focused on the memory.

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